The Road to Now
by marvelnerd2981
Summary: This is the untold until now story starting from when Clint and Natasha met and how they slowly became more trustful of each other. I promise that there will be romance in it at the end and maybe middle, but has more of a flirty friendship theme. Please, no hate, feel free to correct mistakes and PLEASE review compliments and criticism. :) Marvel owns any recognizable material.
1. Chapter 1

It was 5 years ago. There was a busy dinner party in Budapest. Women and men dressed in millions of dollars in dresses and tuxedoes. I was there to target an ambassador from Beijing. Keeping an eye out for hostiles, spies, I pretended to mingle. As a freelance assassin, I had an advantage over American spies. They had protocol, rules that kept them in line, and they followed them. At least, the boring ones did. Once in a while I would come across someone who wasn't afraid to step a toe out of line. I was hoping I wouldn't encounter any of those tonight. This was a busy op, and it required precision and focus more than usual. No excitement. Not tonight.

At first I thought I was in the clear. Thats when I first saw him.  
I had slipped a drink onto the platter of a passing waiter. Suddenly, I thought I saw someone looking at me from behind a thick marble pillar. Doing a double take as subtlety as I could, a wisp of my red hair blurred my vision. By the time I pushed it away, the man was gone. An uneasy feeling settled around me, and I walked through the crowd towards the door to the kitchen. Pushing my way through the frantic workers, I located the door to a hallway leading into the other part of the house. Slipping through it, I shut it quietly. Looking around my dark surroundings, I found myself in a dimly lit, well furnished hallway. Turning my ears to the sounds around me, I proceeded down the hallway. As I walked, I slid out of my high heels and carried them in my hands. I had to think about my mission. I was gathering all the intel I had collected in my brain when I heard a light shuffling sound. It was very faint but I could hear it well enough to know it came from above my head. I pretended not to hear it but poised my self, knowing I was about to fight. Hearing a straining sound, this time I could feel my instincts kicking in. Ducking and rolling, I pulled the hand gun from inside my calf and pointed it to the sounds source just as an arrow wizzed down and penetrated the carpeted floor about a half inch from my left foot and pinning my long green dress to the floor. Ripping the expensive fabric, I ran down the hallway. Another straining sound of a bow being pulled back and I knew this one would hit me if I didn't think fast. Lining up my gun to the bow sound, I pulled the trigger. The bullet sliced straight through the arrow, but I didn't stick around to watch the two momentum starved pieces hit the persian rug. Running full speed I ducked into an adjoining room. My attacker was a pro, and I knew staying in the line of fire would mean an arrow through my chest. Staying still, my feet planted firmly on the floor, I kept my gun raised at the door. I heard a thumping sound behind me.  
A man in a black suit with no sleeves was standing behind me, eyes narrowed and bow fitted with a new arrow. I had seen the piercing blue eyes, and knew it was the person I had seen watching me in the ballroom. My gun and his bow level, we silently dared each other to make a move, and thinking fast I dropped my gun and swung my leg out, knocking his bow out of place. He lunged forward, and I dodged his fist as it plunged toward my face. Grabbing it in my hand, I twisted hard and threw his body over my shoulder. His frame slammed onto the ground with force, but he jumped up without missing a beat. He punched forward again and clipped my chin. Though it was only a small amount of contact my chin started throbbing. Taking advantage of my momentary unbalance, he pinned me against the wall. Ducking, I avoided another punch, and swept my foot and knocked him off his feet. As I was trying to kick him, he swung his hand out and I fell over. He jumped up and placed his boot on my stomach, and suddenly his bow was in his hand and an arrow was pointing at my forehead. Keeping my gaze cold, I flinched as a piece of broken glass cut into my arm. I don't know what had broken, but shards of it was scattered across the floor. His blue eyes flickered to the blood slowly staining the carpet, and I got a good look at his face for the first time. His blue eyes stared into mine and then back at the blood. Something different came into his eyes and they un narrowed. Taking his boot off my stomach and lowering his weapon, he extended his hand. Suspicion clouded my thoughts, but for some reason I took it and allowed him to help me up. Our eyes met again, and he turned and jumped out the window.


	2. Chapter 2

In the months that followed, I turned my back on being a freelance assassin and joined the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division (S.H.I.E.L.D). I was good, and my days of killing for money were over. I hadn't come into contact with the man who attacked and spared me until I walked into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters for the first time.  
He was perched high above the floor on one of the ceiling rafters. Same sleeveless black suit, same blue eyes, the only thing missing was his bow and arrow. His eyes were surveying everyone and everything below him; he and I locked eyes and a faint smile brushed his face. Shaking my head clear and walking forward, a woman in a navy blue cat suit appeared in front of me.  
"I'm Maria Hill. I'm here to escort you to Director Fury." Something in her eyes was off, and I could tell she didn't trust me at all. Without another word she spun on her heel and led me through the modern lobby and into a room with computer monitors taking up three of the walls. The last wall was complete with posters of S.H.I.E.L.D. s most wanted. I knew my face and profile had once hung there. A table in the center of the room had an electronic, 3 dimensional map of what looked like Boston. A man wearing a long black cloak was standing in front of the table. An eye patch covered his left eye, and he looked up when Maria and I entered.  
"Agent Romanov, welcome to the briefing room. I believe you and Agent Barton are already acquainted."  
All of a sudden I was aware that there was a fourth person in the room. Stepping out of the dark corner, there he was, blue eyes and everything.  
"You sure are in the shadows a lot." I said in a steady voice.  
"I see better from a distance." He replied. The look in his eyes was the same as the one he had when he helped me up in Budapest.  
"This is agent Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. I'm Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D." I could tell Fury wanted to move things along. He sat down at the head of the table and Clint took a seat a few chairs away. I did the same, and Fury started the debriefing.  
"This is the Winston Plaza in Boston. At 3:56 A.M. this morning, it was broken into. The item stolen was a high frequency radiation detector. We believe the culprits are a group known as the Transparence. First class shadows and assassins that don't need that caliber of technology within their reach. They could use it to dig up a lot of dangerous materials. Your mission is to bring it back before we have a radioactive plague spreading across Massachusetts." Fury slid two files to me and Barton, no doubt containing everything on the detector and the Transparence.  
"Now, get to work." he said, and got up to leave the room.

* * *

Standing up, I picked up the files and strode out the door. I could feel him watching me, and questions about the night in Budapest filled my brain. Why hadn't he killed me? Why was I different? He had a clear shot but he didn't take it. Thats what assassins do. They find whatever kill zone they can, they finish the mission, and don't leave anything to chance. But he had taken a chance on me. Nobody had done that for me before. Ever.  
Abandoning the thoughts and burying them deep in my head, I realized I had no idea where I was going. I was used to doing things planned out, knowing every inch and detail of a place before putting a foot inside. But this was different. No paycheck, no target, no blood on my hands. Retracing my steps in my mind, I turned and ran right into Clint.  
"You really need to wear a bell around your neck!" I said, my heart resumed its natural beat, and I regained my composure.  
"I thought you might need this." His tone was serious but his all too familiar smirk was ruining the intensity. Two plane tickets and a passport were in his hand. Handing one of the tickets and the passport to me, I kept a smile from inching its way onto my lips.  
"What are these for?"  
"They usually ask for a TICKET to get on a plane." Now he was smiling broadly.  
"Are you ever serious? What do I need them for?"  
"WE're taking a trip." He winked and with that, walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking down the street of my new apartment, I took careful notice of the people around me. Most of them were drunk or homeless; I hadn't chosen the most ideal place to settle. It was only temporary though, I would be moving into an apartment in New York City to be closer to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.  
As I walked, I noticed a group of men glance my way, and one staggered across the street toward me.  
"Isn't a little late to be out and about, a delicate thing like yourself?" His words dripped with drunkenness, and the rest of the group jeered and cat called as I walked a bit faster. I silently swore myself not to use my training on civilians, but the men kept getting closer.  
"Come on, sweetheart, we're just being friendly." The man who said this had a sick smile on his face. I walked faster, containing my urge to snap their necks. I wasn't an assassin anymore, I cared who I hurt, I kept telling myself. More remarks followed, and one of the men grabbed my arm.  
"We said, stop!" In the blink of an eye, I snapped. My foot flew into his knee, and I slammed his head into the side of the building next to us. He slumped over unconscious.  
I had done it. I snapped. NO. I WASN't this anymore. I wasn't. I didn't want to be! Running full speed, I rushed up the steps to my building, shoved the key in the door, and slammed it behind me. I couldn't do this! Leaning against the shut door, I slid to the ratty carpet. Burying my face in my knees, the tears came out. I sat there, for about a minute, crying. Suddenly, my past came flooding back. The training in the Red Room, having no childhood, just killing. The tears poured harder. Then, I saw the ticket and passport falling out of my bag. Thinking about my new job, my new life, I started to cry less. Then I thought about Clint, and his smirking face, and for some reason our fight in Budapest. Feeling the scar on my arm from the broken glass, I thought about Clint's eyes, how they looked when he helped me up, and I stopped crying completely.

* * *

I sat down in the arm chair in my living room. Opening the file on the Transparence, I sifted through the papers. It was mostly just brief files on key authority figures inside the circle, but there were a few summaries of some of their major crimes. One caught my eye. I recognized the target name. I had tailed him a few months back in San Diego. He was a professional surgeon who made a lot of bad people angry. I had been hired to take him out, but he had literally disappeared just as I was closing in.  
I remembered walking down a busy street; he was eating at a cheap sidewalk café. I was getting ready to make my move when I had noticed three other men and two women simultaneously walking toward him. I tried to get a good look, but when I turned back, the other tails, my target, and my paycheck were gone. That wasn't my finest hour.  
I looked through the files on the Transparence agents who worked that op, and I recognized their faces. That meant they could probably recognize me too if Clint and I got too close to them. This could be a problem.  
Setting down the papers, I looked at the plane ticket. Picking it up, the destination caught my eye. Boston. That meant me and Clint would be paying a visit to the Winston plaza. Eager for tomorrow to come, I waited in my chair for nothing. It felt good to relax for a little bit. Below me on the street, I heard a car horn, breaking the silence. A couple shouts, and then what sounded like a beer bottle shattering on the asphalt. Then, complete quiet. I don't remember falling asleep, or even feeling tired. But I woke up and the sun was just coming up. Getting to my feet, I stretched my back. The armchair had really screwed it up. Getting ready for the day ahead, I heard a thump on the door. Buttoning the last button on my blouse, I opened it to find Clint leaning casually on the wall opposite the door.  
"What do you want?" I said, perhaps colder than I should have.  
"Good morning to you too." He said. He held out a cup of coffee, cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.  
"Thanks." Feeling strangely more alert, even before taking a sip of the coffee, I let him in. "We could have a problem though. Some of the Transparence agents were on one of my targets a few months back. They could recognize me and blow our mission before it begins."  
He looked slightly taken aback, but replied steadily.  
"My news is slightly more positive. I scored us undercover posts in the Winston. We can tail the Transparence agents back to wherever they are storing their info. Hopefully that will get us somewhere." Suddenly, both our phones vibrated. It was a message from headquarters to come into work immediately. Clint looked at me and nodded. Grabbing my bag, he held the door for me.


	4. Chapter 4

Later, in the briefing room, Fury was pointing to two faces on the screens.  
"Terrence Rivers, Alicia Lore. Both work for Transparence, and we intercepted communications that they are staging a drop off, today. JFK airport. Two hours. They both have two important items and they are both going somewhere. Get to work." He slid two papers to the center of the table. When I looked closer, I saw it wasn't paper, but a thin sheet of tiny pixels. The holograph projector shot to life, beaming a 3D briefcase and key into the air. I suspected that these were the items Clint and I had to retrieve. I looked at him, but he was staring at the hologram.  
"Do we have any idea whats in the case?" he asked Fury.  
"We know it's something that they need to get to their home base, so it is probably big in our mission."  
I stood up, and both men turned their eyes on me. I looked at Clint, raised my eyebrows, and waved my hand towards the door.  
"I'm driving." I said, with a small smile. For once, I didn't feel cautioned; I felt my shell beginning to crack. Curious.  
I beat Clint to the drivers seat of my Jaguar. Sliding into the leather seat, I realized how tainted this car was. I had bought it with bloody money, as I called it. I had to forget that though, and turned the ignition. Running the route to JFK in my mind, I could feel him staring at me again. Pretending to ignore it, I pulled onto the highway. The stare became annoying really fast.  
"SO, the briefcase." I said, trying to make conversation.  
"You have a REALLY pretty nose." Clint replied, his voice was mocking and joking;I wanted to punch him.  
"I really want to kill you right now." I said, my anger flaring as it had last night. "I'm trying to be serious and have a new life and I feel-"  
"Like you have a friend?" Clint cried. I was surprised; he sounded angry. "All I'm trying to do is loosen you up a bit and get to know you but your just so intense! I really am starting to wish that I had let go of that arrow!" He was practically shouting now. My heart sank to my stomach, for some reason that really hurt. I felt tears bordering my eyes.  
"I'm starting to wish you did, too." I replied. Silence.  
"I am so sorry! I didn't... I didn't mean to say that. I just got mad and..."  
"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked tentatively.  
"I saw something in your eyes. Something lost, like you didn't know what you were doing was wrong. You looked controlled." His head was turned toward the side of the road, but his voice was strong.  
"Can we... Start over? I don't want to hate you."  
He looked at me and smirked. I took that as a yes.  
"So who, what was controlling you." Clint asked. My sudden feeling of renewal was blown to pieces suddenly. I didn't like talking about my past. It wasn't even a past, just a horror story. I had been orphaned as a baby and grew up in the Red Room, a place where a group of evil people trained assassins. That was my childhood. Being trained to fire a gun, use a knife, throw a deadly punch. I didn't have friends, I didn't joke around, and I didn't have a choice. Thats why Clint felt so alien to me. He wasn't different, he was different from me. But for some reason, I felt like I had know him my whole life; I trusted him for some reason unknown.  
I didn't realize I was talking until Clint started to. I had just told him my back story without intension. What the hell? He started telling his story.  
"I was in a circus when I was a teenager. I had always had a good eye, and when I started training with the bow, I was the best in the circus. I didn't realize that I was actually as good as I was. Then I heard about Tony Stark, and Iron Man. It inspired me to breakaway and join S.H.I.E.L.D, and well, the rest is history." He still sounded steady, but his face was far away, lost in memory. "One of my first missions was tracking down the infamous Black Widow, I thought it would be easy." He said 'Black Widow' with humor, but at the same time I could tell it was heavy. "Little did I know, I would meet my match..." He smiled at me, but not a smirk, a genuine, deep smile. It un-nerved me. Thank God we were at the airport.  
"We're here." I said abruptly.  
"Awesome..." Clint replied, but his voice implied that he didn't think it was.  
He handed me a small gray ear piece from a case in his pocket.  
"Communications. Thats the thing with S.H.I.E.L.D, we get all the cool toys." I placed it my ear and we did a quick comm check before going into the airport.  
The people were milling and rushing and I knew locating the Transparence agents would be damn near impossible. Voices over the PA systems were a distant noise as I tried to dissect each little one. I heard a tiny crackle in my ear and heard Clint say "Got 'em. 1:00" I looked to where he was implying and saw a woman with blond hair, Alicia Lore, sitting on a bench, a briefcase on her lap. She was looking around casually and I averted my gaze before ours met. I watched her eyes flicker over a man reading a flight schedule across the busy lobby. She shifted a bit in her seat; her body language was giving her away. Suddenly, she got to her feet as an employee started ushering people to an air gate. She practically fell over herself rushing to the gate. I could feel her concentration as she strode past me. The man started walking toward a gate too, but he appeared much more relaxed. He fixed his tie and looked around before disappearing through the archway.  
"Their going on different flights!" I whispered into my com. "Follow the girl, I got the guy. Get the case!" Clint was practically yelling into the speaker. Nevertheless, I ran to the gate the woman had gone through.  
As I entered the plane, the flight attendant asked for my ticket.  
"Oh!" I put on a flustered expression. "My husband has it! We have 3 kids, and I needed to say goodbye to my mother before we-"  
"Thats fine ma'am. Just bring it to another attendant while on board." She ushered me in with a grin. What an idiot.  
Continuing walking, I kept an eye out for the blond. I saw her, in a seat by the window. The cushioned seat next to her was empty. I had to take a direct approach if I was to get the case. Remembering the comm in my ear, I realized it would give me away. Pushing some hair behind my ear, I grabbed it and slipped it in my pocket.  
"I'm so sorry. Is this seat taken?" I asked her, regaining my flustered look.  
"No. Go ahead." She didn't smile and turned to the window.  
The flight attendant went up ad down the rows, going over security procedures and checking luggage. I could see the briefcase near the blonde's feet.  
"You look SO familiar! Have we met?" Her question caught me off guard.  
"No. I'm pretty sure we haven't. I get that all the time!" I put on a fake smile. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed my phone and headphones. She couldn't do anything with me next to her. Closing my purse, I saw something different in it. Sneaking a look to make sure she wasn't seeing in it, I noticed a green pen with a tiny S.H.I.E.L.D label on the cap. Taking off the cap, I saw the tiniest of needles instead of a regular pen. I knew at once that it must be knockout injection; Maria Hill had showed me some on display on my first tour of S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint must have slipped it in my bag in the car. I waited for a long time, pretending to listen to music. Glancing at the flight attendants, who were going around saying only ten minutes of the flight left, I grabbed the pen out of my bag. Blondie was looking out the window, so removing the cap, I jabbed it swiftly into her thigh. She glanced at me for a moment, but then her eyelids closed and her head dipped back. Hm. This stuff works fast. Grabbing the briefcase as casually as I could, I replaced it with my bag, which looked quite similar. Putting it at the same angle, I hoped the sleep serum would keep effect until the end of the flight. All I had to do was be the first to leave. Taking a deep breath, I waited.  
The plane started to land and I bolted up. The blonde girl had just woken up, but was groggy. As soon as the light came on for no seat belts, I was gone. Pushing past the two flight attendants, I looked at the girl. Uh-oh. She was holding my bag. She looked around and at me. I think she started to shout something, but I was already out into the terminal.  
Slipping my comm in my ear, I spoke as quietly as my adrenaline would allow.  
"Barton, she's onto me. We need to get out of here." I felt my heart skip as he replied.  
"Shit. Their are at least 6 Transparence details here. I have the key, but we can't meet up and just hand them to each other."  
I walked through to the meeting lobby. I skimmed the crowd for Barton. I saw people looking at me. Crap.  
"I see you. I have an idea." I saw him coming towards me, his hand suddenly went to his face. "Please forgive me." He came up in front of me and pressed his lips to mine. I felt something get pushed into my mouth. The key. He broke away and hugged me. He whispered in my ear.  
"I'll take care of the tails. Take the case and the key to headquarters. I'll meet you there." I could barely register his words, my mind felt like it was imploding. He had kissed me. I knew it was for the mission, but a warning would have served decent. I had to catch a flight back to New York as soon as I could.


	5. Chapter 5

Being back at headquarters was a feeling of rushed excitement; the possible contents of the briefcase were gnawing at my brain the entire flight home. Finding Nick Fury waiting for me outside, I held out the briefcase and key.  
"Good work. Agent Barton made contact with us to notify that he is on his way back. I trust everything went smoothly?" My thoughts replayed the events at the airport. Actually, they couldn't have gotten any hectic. But Fury didn't need to know the exact details.  
"Things went ok." I tried to keep my answer vague. Fury looked at me with the briefest gaze if doubt, but then turned to Maria Hill, who had pretty much materialized out of thin air next to my boss. He started to instruct he to take the case to the lab, and I took this as a dismissal and slipped away. The wind whipped my hair about, so I walked a bit faster to the double doors. After seeking refuge inside S.H.I.E.L.D, I realized how much my spine and back muscles were aching. I needed a workout to stretch myself into working form again. I thought back to every room I remembered passing; being trained as an assassin all my life provided me with quite a good memory. Thinking of a training room I saw two days ago, I walked in the direction I recalled it being in. Hitting a punching bag might help me clear my thoughts.  
Walking through the archway from the changing room to the workout room, I inhaled deeply, familiarizing myself with the place I would undoubtedly spend a lot of time. There was a pine scent, which I assumed was hardwood floor polish, mixed with rubbery smells from the mats covering part of the floor. Overall the gym was very nice; modern fitness equipment were spread in different sections around the large room. Striding over to an area with punching bags hanging from bars crossing under the ceiling, I strapped on some fist guards and began my workout. As soon as I got a good rhythm, the bag was almost completely horizontal when I struck it. Combining punches and kicks, I could feel the stress leaving my body.  
Still beating heavily upon the bag, Barton was suddenly in front of me. By now I had grown accustomed to his sudden appearances; I pretended not to notice him. He was standing with his arms crossed and was watching the punching bag. Finally, I reached out and stopped the swinging bag, and looked at him expectantly.  
"Haven't you ever seen a girl working out before?" I asked, growing impatient at his wordlessness, an uncommon occurrence for him.  
"Not like that. Remind me not to piss you off." His eyes were serious for once, his tone steady.  
"Why are you so serious?" Peeling off the fist guards, I threw them to the mat. He didn't answer; again, why the sudden quietness?  
"Good job at the airport today. I know I kind of took you by surprise, so... sorry."  
I shot him a look that meant it was ok.  
"Thanks." I responded, walking across the room to the changing rooms. He gave a small smile and nodded, then proceeded to walk away towards the gym doors.  
After I got into fresh clothes, I set off down the corridor. The gym was down on the lower floors of S.H.I.E.L.D, and instead of great big floor to ceiling windows that were all around the more sun lit parts of the building, there were nothing but beige paneled walls and concrete floors. It was cold and echoey and by far my least favorite part of headquarters, but at least it was never lonely. Agents at S.H.I.E.L.D apparently worked out daily or weekly, but their workout routines were different from a normal gym. They didn't use treadmills or those pedaling things that nobody knows the name of; it was quite normal to see people training in hand-to-hand combat, firing guns, or dueling swords. That was all in just one measly 45 minute workout!  
The upper levels of the building were my preference. They were sun filled and busy, so it was easy for me to blend in. Thats what surprised me. When I first started working at S.H.I.E.L.D, I thought I would stick out, that I would be different from everyone. But it seemed everyone there had a big secret or a shady past, so therefore, I had something in common with every single agent there. Of course I was still new, so I wasn't counting my lucky stars yet. A lot can change.  
Of all the dark secrets, false identities and mixed personalities, though, it just made it easier. You didn't need time to get to know everyone, just assume that this was their cover for the day. I had achieved a pretty good knowing of almost every single person there.  
Almost  
Barton, the king of bipolar personality mixes, was slightly more complex. I thought that in my many travels I would meet every kind of person there is. There are sickeningly happy people, unhealthily negative people, and about 100 shades in between. But he was like a new species of oddness, complex, completely confusing, but so easy to trust. I don't know how many lies he has told me since we met, or how many times he has told the truth. Of course, nobody is a foolproof liar, so I could read between the lines often. But the way he tells them, like he wants to believe them himself, somehow softens the sting if the dishonesty. Still, as forgiving as he makes me be, no matter how many times I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at his sarcastic, dry humor, I would have to learn to trust him sooner or later.  
Right?


	6. Chapter 6

My apartment floors creaked as I crossed the living room, a mug of coffee in my hand. Trying not to spill the steaming hot liquid, I set it to the right of my laptop. My night so far had consisted of me taking advantage of my acquired access to high security level documents and records. The wobbly table in the kitchen was littered with charts and timelines, files and ledgers. I had been trying to dig up whatever I could about any Transparence agents or their missions. After working for 4 hours straight, taking a coffee break seemed very inviting. Setting aside the CIA mission reports I was reading, a knock sounded through my apartment: two raps that rang like gunshots through the otherwise silent room. Starting a little, I crossed the room to the door, placed my hand on the doorknob, and peeked through the peephole. It was Barton.  
Swinging the door open, I noticed he wasn't smirking, even the ever present joking light in his eyes was gone as I stepped aside to let him in.  
"Bad news?" I asked, and noticing how tired he looked, walked over to the kitchen counter and poured a mug of coffee for him.  
"Thanks" he replied, wrapping one hand around the ceramic cup. "And yeah."  
My stomach dropped a little; seeing as my research was bombing, I had been hoping he had something progressive.  
"The lab geeks finally managed to disable the security systems and codes on the case. After they could open it without having their eardrums shattered by security alarms, we found files and tapes in it." He was now slouching against my kitchen counter, staring blankly at his coffee.  
"Isn't that good?" By now, I was thoroughly confused, by his sudden personality change and his bad attitude at something that sounded substantial to the mission.  
"They were all in code. And I mean, CODE code. Fury went nuts when the encryption agents couldn't even decipher them. So we are practically back to square one."  
"I have slightly better news." I said. Looking up, he raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened slightly, egging me to go on. "I found a number of connections between old cold cases in different agencies. I've spent half the night filling in timelines, they all seem to lead back to this address, only there isn't any zip code. Anywhere. I searched back and front, but there isn't any mention of a state, city, country, NOTHING. Just this address. I was hoping S.H.I.E.L.D could pinpoint it." I handed him some of the charts I had made, and he walked up to the table, standing across from me, sifting through papers and looking through them.  
"How did you even get access to these records?" His voice sounded impressed.  
"I know a guy." I tried to sound as vague as possible, dropping the hint that I didn't want to talk about it. By the look of understanding in his eyes, I take it that it wasn't lost on him. Instead of asking more questions, he smiled for the first time that night.  
"I'll call Fury." Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he stepped into the hall. I was clearing some of the papers off the desk when I heard a creaking noise. Spinning around, I saw a window open, a window I was sure I had closed. Someone was in my apartment.  
Suddenly, a hand closed over my mouth and I could feel a knife on my throat. My heart skipped violently, but my combat reflexes soon arose. Jamming my elbow into my attackers stomach, they gasped and the blade flew backward out of their hand to the floor, landing with a sharp metallic sound on the hardwood floor. I spun around and threw a punch, but they blocked it. I could tell it was a woman, so she should be easier and lighter to knock down. Swinging out my leg and pushing down on her shoulders, she went down. Apparently unfazed, she grabbed at the edge of my table and pushed herself under it to the other side. I heard a clicking sound, and when she got back to her feet in the blink of eye, there was a gun in her hand. Wishing I hadn't left my own gun in my bag across the room, I prepared to make another move, when I heard a straining sound, and the attacker fell to the floor, an arrow in her chest. Looking to the door I saw Clint standing just through the doorway, his bow in his hand. Turning back to the woman bleeding on my kitchen floor, I reached down and pulled off her ski mask. Blonde hair spilled from the black cap and her face grimaced up at me. I recognized her features. It was the Transparence agent from the airplane, the one I had knocked out and stolen the case from. She wasn't dead, her body was spasming and she was sputtering for breath. I looked again at Barton, who had now saved my life twice, as he stared grimly at the woman. They had found me.


	7. Chapter 7

He drove us back to S.H.I.E.L.D, but we stayed silent. It wasn't the attack that had shaken me, it was the fact that even with S.H.I.E.L.D security on my apartment building, the enemy had gotten in. They hadn't even set off an alarm, or else I would have heard it. As we rolled along the highways, I stared blankly out the window. The sidewalks of New York weren't a comforting sight, but it was either gaze infinitely at them or talk to Barton, something I was much to tired to do at the moment. He took the hint remarkably fast, and stopped trying to make conversation by the time we left the street where my apartment was. By the time we were in front of the double doors of S.H.I.E.L.D, which was disguised as a law firm, I had only spoken one word to him since he took the phone call in my apartment.  
"Thanks," I told him. He merely nodded, shaking off the fact that right now I would be in a body bag if he hadn't been there. I walked into the building, him following close behind. Fury was waiting, his arms crossed. He didn't look mad, but there was some kind of hostile emotion showing in his one good eye.  
"Do you know where Westchester is?" When I nodded, he handed Barton the papers and walked away, saying no goodbye.  
Barton was reading the papers when I pulled them out of his hand. He didn't protest, but let me read them. The top sheet had an address and Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I knew what it meant, but it was so unexpected I needed confirmation from my partner.  
"Isn't that the school for kid mutants?"  
"Yeah. It looks a couple of students have been attacked. We're going there to continue the mission and provide extra security for the kids." He had literally had the papers for about three seconds, his eyes must really have been good. He went outside to his car, and I followed this time.

When we pulled up to the address on the paper, I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped. Xavier's was a huge, stately mansion, sitting amidst at least 20 acres of manicured lawn and pruned gardens. As we rolled up the drive, I couldn't help but ogle the surroundings. The faint light from behind the clouds was reflecting off a fountain, casting odd shapes off the wall behind it. Getting out of the car, our shoes clacked on the cobblestone front patio. Opening the grand door, I walked in before Clint. As we entered the building, my eyes widened. The sun was coming up, and students were milling around. They looked to be of all ages, but their activities were what was odd. A girl walked past us, her books levitating in the air in front if her. A boy shouted from the top of the large staircase to friends down below, and in a blur he was at their side. Super speed and telekinesis, though, were nothing compared to what happened next. A voice sounded through my head, one that wasn't my own. As i turned to Barton, he blanched and that told me the voice was in his mind to.  
"My name is Professor Charles Xavier." The voice said. As it finished its sentence, a man in a wheelchair approached us. He had a bald head and a severe but kind face. As he spoke, I realized his voice matched the one in our heads.  
"I apologize for startling you, I forgot that you aren't accustomed to telepathic communication."  
I spoke for me and partner.  
"I'm Natasha Romanov, and this is Clint Barton."  
"Charles Xavier. I run the school, and I contacted Nick Fury to summon you here. Would you please, follow me." His wheelchair turned and rolled down the hallway. As we were walking behind the smoothly gliding chair, at least 30 kids openly stared at us. I suppose we must have stuck out, they probably knew every student and teacher. Something told me that the students of Xavier's didn't get many visitors. A woman with silver hair fell into line near us.  
"Professor, I just visited Jade and Spencer in the hospital wing, and Spencer has nearly recovered."  
"And Jade?"  
"Her powers are still being effected, she can only keep visible with concentration. We think the toxin the darts were filled with especially effects mutants. Jean's doing everything she can. "  
Professor Xavier looked grim.  
"Thank you Storm. Ah, Storm, this is Natasha and Clint, part of our security detail from S.H.I.E.L.D. Friends, this is Ororo Monroe, also known as Storm."  
This time, Clint spoke.  
"Hawkeye, Black Widow." He pointed to himself and me in turn. Storm smiled warmly before saying farewell and turning down a corridor. By this time we had arrived at a door with a code panel next to it. It automatically opened and we followed Xavier inside.  
We found ourselves in a large lab with plenty of modern equipment that could have given S.H.I.E.L.D a run for its money. A young girl was working behind some kind of scientific instrument. I was surprised to see that she looked no more 16 or 17. I expected, even at a place so heavily populated with kids, there would be more experienced technician. I heard Professor Xavier speak up.  
"Jasmine is our top chemistry and biology student. She has better knowledge of the toxin that the students were attacked with than most of the staff here." He must have read my mind. I wasn't liking this telepathy thing.  
The girl had looked up as we entered but remained silent. Now she straightened up and pushed a bit a brown hair behind her ear.  
"Hello." She smiled at us, but then turned and spoke something to the large lab in front of us. "Jean!"  
A red haired woman stepped out from behind a large microscope. She walked directly to Xavier, and after he made quick introductions, we followed her to where she had been working. She launched into a long discussion with my colleague and Xavier, and I saw she had a vial with single strand of black hair. A test sample, I thought. Bored already of the talking, I approached the young girl. She had her eyes against a microscope, and took them away after a moment to write something in a chart on the bench near her. Noticing me, she smiled a little.  
"What have you been working on?" I asked.  
"Well, Jean is handling the student's internal organs and how they were effected by the darts. I'm breaking the toxin they contained into smaller components so that we can do individual tests and see which one harms the powers. So far I isolated an extract from jellyfish venom. I think its what caused the dizziness and paralyzation."  
"I didn't know jellyfish venom could do  
that." I said.  
"They can't usually. It's been tweaked in a lab. It's entire mass was... Modified. Whoever did this was a pro. I'm Jasmine, by the way."  
"Natasha. I understand you're a student. What's your mutation?"  
"I don't have one. I was invited to Xavier's because of my knowledge and understanding of poisons and toxins. That's why they call me Biohazard. I fight with these." Reaching into her pocket, she removed two bands of metal with four individual spikes on them. "The spikes are infused with poison. I originally made them for test reasons, but they were way too cool to give away. I also developed these." This time going around the lab table to a panel in the wall, she slid back the glass cover. Inside were small cylindrical items no bigger than bullets. Jasmine removed one of them and pressed onto the back if it. A small needle sprang out and she held it up. "My signature toxin bullets. I developed all the toxins myself, and I have special launchers in my suit." She was practically bubbling over with giddiness, I could tell she was proud of her weapons. After complimenting her weapons and saying goodbye, I walked back over to Barton. Xavier and Jean had finished talking, and Xavier was already rolling back out the door. After the automatic door had slid shut, I saw that the halls had emptied out somewhat. Xavier started down another corridor, this one with calm green wallpaper and a brown and gold oriental rug. Paintings glared at us from their frames as we followed his wheelchair. We came to a stop at some double doors, and Barton opened it, holding it open as Xavier rolled through, and continuing until I was through. We were in a room with six beds against one wall and six more on the other. It was a hospital. Only one bed was occupied, and a girl with jet black hair lay in it. She looked about the same age as Jasmine. She had a troubled look on her face, and her left arm was heavily bandaged. Her grey eyes flickered toward us as we entered.  
"Hello professor," She said in a pained voice.  
"Hello Jade. Allow me to introduce you to Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov, part of our new security detail."  
She smiled faintly, but then the sun went behind a cloud and the room was cloaked in shadows. A look of panic crossed her face, and as we watched, her body started to fade. Her now translucent eyes grew in fear, and she shouted out to a room in the back of the hospital. A young girl who looked, again, 16 or 17 rushed out. Doesn't anyone in this school go to classes?  
The blond girl looked to the fading sunlight and reached up her hand. We observed in awe as small particles of light flew to her hand and her hands started to glow a bright gold color. The previously dark room was bathed in a brilliant light. Jade slowly returned to full solid view. She grinned widely at the blond girl, who Xavier introduced as Lavender Meyers, and her codename as Aura.  
"Lavender can absorb light and use it any way she chooses. She can convert it to energy or simply use it to light some place up." He explained. Her face flushed, and I looked to her eyes. They were a bright hazel, and they caught every light and flashed different colors, like a prism. I watched her in wonder as the light slowly drained from her hand. Still in awe at her gift, I thought about how long it had been since something had impressed me like this. A knock violently shook the thoughts from my head, and, still turned towards Jade's bed, I heard the heavy double doors creak open. As it opened more, Jade's face gained some color, and her face was painted in a small grin. I turned to see a tall dark haired boy, and immediately felt the urge to leave the room. I had no desire to witness teenage puppy love...


	8. Chapter 8

Out in the hallway, I wondered how many students we were going to meet today. Luckily Xavier had spared Barton and I of meeting another student, and we had left as the boy arrived. As we were led to our rooms, Barton and Xavier walked ahead, and I let them. I was pissed at him for not including me; I would have expected he would have included me. I had many perks looking the way I did, I had often used my looks as an advantage on missions. But there were other times, like this, where my appearance caused people to underestimate me. However, though sure that this was part of it, I suspected that there was more to my exclusion from the conversation: my past. I was getting the feeling that nobody trusted me here, considering everyone but the girl, Jasmine, had bypassed me and leeched onto my more trustworthy looking partner. As we reached my new room, I shut the door firmly, making sure he could pick up the signals with the loud slam echoing down the hall. My hand still on the doorknob, I had to keep myself from punching the wall, bitter at the unfairness of it all.

The next two days were ridiculously boring. Everyday felt like the same exact thing over and over. I still wasn't comfortable around my new partner; I realized I hadn't even spoken to him once outside of S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. There was no casual conversations like the ones friends had, and I scolded myself for thinking that that was what Barton was. Even when we were outside work, that was the only topic we stayed on, except for the car ride before our first mission. That had been painfully awkward. So the time at Xavier's hadn't exactly been a cakewalk.

And then, the nightmares began again.

As I lay my head down on my pillow, I looked up at the white ceiling. I tried to put my mind at ease, but thoughts still raged in my brain. An hour later, fatigue finally began tugging my eyelids. I looked at the walls, which I could have sworn had been blue, and were now blood red. And then, the world blurred and sleep collapsed onto me.  
I was in a room. The room itself wasn't red, but I knew how it got its name. The cracked cement floor to the ancient stone that held the ceiling beams in place was oozing an essence of hurt. An essence of pain and death. I was on my knees, and I couldn't move any part of my body. I couldn't feel any handcuffs or bindings, but it was as if I had lost every bit of control of my physical being. Then I found myself looking in a puddle of filthy water, and the person in the reflection was a 12 year old me. My red hair hung limp down to my earlobes. My skin was etched with burns and cuts, scrapes and bruises. And then I heard footsteps. I saw Barton standing in front of me, expressionless, when a crowd of people with blurred faces appeared around us. Barton suddenly began to turn red, as did the crowd of people around us. The scarlet seemed to cover everything, creeping up the walls and stretching across the floor. It was closing in around me at all sides, and eventually started to spread up my knees. The moment it touched my skin, pain exploded in my body, and I realized it wasn't the hurt of a punch, or a gunshot wound.  
It was worse. Regret, and guilt washed over me. I felt nothing but utter remorse, until I couldn't remember anything before that.  
Then I woke up.  
My hair was damp with sweat, as was my skin. A sob escaped my mouth but I silenced it. The walls were blue again, ad a cool breeze from the ceiling fan. I tried to stop the sting of tears welling in my eyes, so I closed them. I didn't fall asleep again for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, I figured that Xavier thought that my partner and I weren't cutting it in the security department. Thats why Barton and I were standing in the lobby, waiting for the other 'guards' to show up. And they did. It was a man and a woman. The woman had pure white hair, not unlike Storm's, and had unnaturally long manicured finger nails. She introduced herself as Felicia Hardy, but then asked pointedly that we called her Black Cat. She was intimidating even though she was very short and thin. She looked to be about 24 or so. I stood emotionless, Black Cat seemed likable enough. The man behind her, however, earned my immediate dislike. Mainly because I could feel him watching me from the moment he walked through the door. He was tall and broad, with dark brown hair. He introduced himself as Adonis, and I rolled my eyes in disgust. I saw him wink at me and my insides clenched in revulsion. I knew his type: macho, woman chasing, and cocky. Ugh. Something told me that he was going to have some trouble keeping his hormones under control...

* * *

The next day was the worst of all my days at Xavier's. with Adonis practically tripping over his testosterone when around me, my patience was wearing so low it was pretty much in the negatives. I now shot Adonis a threatening glare every time he made a pass at me, occasionally even having to speak Russian swear words to relieve some of my anger. But when we were in the poor excuse of a briefing room (I had to frequently remind myself that a school would not have the same layout of S.H.I.E.L.D) he went too far. Way too far. As he squeezed behind me to get to his chair near Black Cat, I felt his hand pinch my ass. I spun around, ready to tear out his throat, when Barton pushed past me and punched Adonis in the face. Years of pulling and holding back a bowstring left Barton very strong, even against a giant like Adonis. I didn't say a word, and simply turned and left the room. I was out. I was out of Xaviers. If I had to spend another day getting sexually harassed then it would end in homicide. I was in my room and packing when Barton came in, not bothering to knock. "I can take care of myself." I said coldly, placing a folded pair of jeans in my bag.  
"Believe me, I know that Natasha." This was the first time, I realized, that he had used my first name. It sounded weird to me, weird, but it also soothed my anger at him a little bit. I turned around to face him.  
"Good, Clint." His first name felt odd to speak, but it equalized us. "And thanks for having my back" I turned back to my packing "But I am SO done with this damn punishment of Fury's. If your not with me, I will leave you here!" It was meant to be a serious threat, but I smirked as I said the last part, and ruined it. Clint looked just as surprised to see me so lighthearted. He smirked at me threat, crossed to the door, and opened it, revealing his already packed luggage. This time I couldn't help it. I smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

We pulled into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters at 11:51, according to my watch. The sky was completely black, and stars hung unaccompanied by the moon. Almost no light was being shed from headquarters, but since it was New York, there was enough lights from neighboring buildings to illuminate the 20 foot walk from the car to the front doors.  
The building was in its usual state: boring and tense. I walked straight to Fury's office, not even checking to see if Clint was following. Ignoring the looks I got from agents in the halls, I barged into the office. He looked up from whatever he was doing, looking out of place in the normal, grey walled office.  
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Not wincing at his menacing tone, I replied without missing a beat.  
"I want a real mission."  
"You don't get a real mission, Romanov! You are on the hit list of one of the most dangerous criminal organizations at large today! I can't have you out in the field to mess anything else up!"  
"Oh, so you thought putting us up at a damn school, with INNOCENT KIDS in danger instead was a better idea than hitting a bump in the road in an op? My voice got louder. "I'm not some kid you can punish!" Fury slammed his fist down on the desk and then kept yelling.  
"If you want a real mission, FINE. Don't come crying to me if you or your partner get killed!" He tossed a folder at me, his good eye gleaming with anger. Then his face softened. "Good to have you back, Romanov."  
I smirked and walked out the door. Clint was waiting for me, and raised his eyebrow at the folder in my hand.  
"I take it things went-" He was cut off, by a titanic shaking that went off under out feet, accompanied by an ear drum shattering boom. Flames and screams erupted around us, and the the force of the explosion hurled me into Clint. The impact pushed us both back against the crumbling wall and a hailstorm of debris rained down on us. I felt glass from the shattered windows showering over us, and I could feel Clint shift his weight to shield me from the debris. Plaster from the ceiling started to fall and then, with a large thump, something hit my head hard. Sparks erupted into my vision, and pain tingled my nerves. Then I slipped into darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

My eyelids slowly opened, and a woozy, groggy sensation overcame me. My red hair was damp and clung to my cheeks. Trying to lift my hands to push it away, I realized my hands were tied behind the chair I was sitting on. Twisting my head slightly, a shot of pain echoed through me. Ignoring it, I looked around. The floor and walls were concrete, much like in my dreams, except much more vivid. As my senses revived from whatever drug they had given me, I grunted with disgust. A sickeningly sweet smell hung in the thick air, but not candy sweet. Rotten, dead flower sweet. A bitter chill pierced my skin like knives, but being Russian, this factor didn't bother me as it would another person. A bright light leapt through the bars high above me, at least 35 feet up the wall. Its glow cut a path through the grime and must, a tease.

"Well well. Our little Russian doll has finally woken up. Are you hungry? Too cold, perhaps?" A hissing voice rang out through the eerie silence. I shifted a bit in my restraints. The movement caused my body to hurt all over, a mix of different pains. Still, I forced a straight face.

"Bite me." I deadpanned, my throat aching with speech. Probably from smoke inhalation in the explosion.

Explosion. The memory rushed back to me, and a needle of panic pricked through all the pain I was in. Clint! Oh god, was he dead?

"Oh relax, I was only trying to be polite!" The voice was definitely male. It sounded so familiar. Where had I heard it before? Footsteps echoed through the cavernous room and a figure became visible through the shadows, the beam of sunlight illuminating his features. It was the surgeon I had been hired to take out many years ago! His dark eyebrows arching at my look of dawning comprehension.

"Familiar?" He chuckled. "I never thought I would live to see the day when the Black Widow turned... Good." The last word was a mockery, his voice filled with contempt.

"Alright, you got me here. What do you want?" My voice didn't waver or tremble, and my icy poker face stayed intact.

"Oh no, I desire nothing! From you, at least. Your boyfriend on the other hand..." He chuckled his menacing laugh again, and my leg twitched a little bit with anger. He was toying with me.

"You see my target was never you. In fact, you proved most useful to me when I first began seeking revenge on S.H.I.E.L.D." He drawled on, and I started to fumble with my hand restraints as subtly as possible. Feeling around the back of the chair, I felt a broken splinter of wood ripped nearly off the chair. I set to work sawing at the heavy duty ropes with the sharp edge. My skin flushed with heat at my concentration, but luckily, the madman in front of me didn't notice. "You think you are so high and mighty, the deadly Widow that no one can kill. You think you are unstoppable, one of a kind. To me, dear Natalia, you were just a pawn." I almost had one of the ropes cut, and barely noticed him use my old name. "A single playing piece, irrelevant to the grand scheme of things. My plan started so long ago, I had just started up the Transparence, they were essential pieces; the bishops and knights to my King piece." Almost had it, just a little more! "What better thing to do than set up the playing board so the most wanted criminals at large were targeting me at once? That ought to get S.H.I.E.L.D's attention, right? But I miscalculated, it's a mistake I won't make again. Ever." The ropes gave way at last.


End file.
